


to be alone

by dealusis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: reuniting with ur mom after 30 years and crying about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dealusis/pseuds/dealusis
Summary: Coruscant was a cesspool of crime and poverty. This was the first thing Eben sensed about the planet upon his touchdown. This planet was easily one of the most prominent cases of Republican hubris and neglect in the Galaxy.





	to be alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is about my Original Character Eben, who's story here is inspired by Assassin's Creed Odyssey. 
> 
> The way he thinks through the force is also heavily based on how user hollycomb writes her Kylo in the series "Children, Wake Up". I just thought it was a neat way to communicate the force concisely. 
> 
> More information on him at dealusis.tumblr.com, on his character profile and his OC tag.

Coruscant was a cesspool of crime and poverty. This was the first thing Eben sensed about the planet upon his touchdown. This planet was easily one of the most prominent cases of Republican hubris and neglect in the Galaxy. 

Coruscant was covered from stratosphere, to ground, to first mantle in human buildings, human ships, human waste. Even beneath his feet, he could feel the stirrings of human activity for miles and miles, not unlike rats in the walls of a decades old starship, gnawing away at the life support system.

It wasn’t hard for him to sneak inside the opulent Senate Building. Republicans have always been weak minded, it took him no further effort other than a wave of his hand to cloak himself from the prying eyes of the civilians and Galactic representatives milling about the fake grass courtyard outside, their eyes rolling off of him, as if he had become nothing but a fixture they had seen thousands of times before. 

After that it was just a matter of following the vague point of interest that pulled him up to the top level, and towards the door he stood in front of now. Inside, he could sense multiple force sensitives all radiating with adverse energy as they cut each other off and became louder in their arguing.

Eben approaches the open durasteel door of the meeting room, cloak hanging heavily around his form, hood pulled up and over his face to obscure his features, taking care to cover the conspicuous metal arm that hung uselessly at his side.

For all the ease of sneaking in, now that he stands awkwardly outside, he has no idea what to do next. He pulls his hood lower with a frown.

Hypothesis: Hiding his presence from the Jedi inside will be easy. They’re all focused elsewhere. He could easily walk in and hide himself in the back of the group.

Analysis: He knows the moment he sees her his concentration will falter, exposing himself to a group of rabid Jedi.

Course of Action: Wait until she’s alone to approach.

Eben leans back as the voices become louder, breaking his train of thought.

The arguing has become a roar, reacting to something that must have been said in rebuttal while Eben was distracted by his own thoughts.

“The Sith are getting too powerful, we have to act  _ now _ !”

“If we don’t the war will reach a point we can’t come back from!”

“What if the Empire takes down another temple? Another loss like that can no longer be rectified by the High Council!”

An exasperated voice cuts through the group, a wave of calm energy that radiates outward and displaces the anxious energy inside the room like ocean water. Eben feels his muscles relax instinctively even as the energy only flows towards his boots from the door. 

“Enough. We’ll reconvene in the morning when we have clear heads. You’re all going to give me an aneurysm if I have to deal this any longer, Force help me.”

Eben creeps closer to the door and further inside, drawn in by the waves of conflicting energy circulating in the room, and the powerful force user commanding it. He peers around the corner of the small foyer like entry, careful not to be seen.

The rooms filled mostly by a large square table, occupied chairs seated around the outside to face a podium and a holo-projected map of the inner core. The rest of the group are standing in the back of the room, facing away from where Eben just entered. 

He lets out a small huff at the large, floor to ceiling window that punctuates the luxury not uncommon in the Republic. 

Observation: Many people in the outer rim don’t even have window coverings, let alone ones that  _ big. _

Analysis: The Republic only cares about image. Out of sight out of mind.

A portly man in Jedi garb speaks up from where he sits on one end of the table, his hand raised.

“How long until the Sith come for Coruscant once again? How long must we wait Aphyx? For them to destroy us entirely? For more Jedi to be killed?”

The women, Aphyx, rubs her hand down her face and shifts to face him, “We will continue tomorrow when we are in our right minds. This needless panic is leading us down the wrong path. We must all get some rest, for the sake of the Council and the people of the Republic.”

The man sighs and shifts his glasses on his face, looking down under her gaze.

Observation: She is in charge here, people respect her authority.

Analysis, offered by the many people gathered in the room: She’s seasoned in this territory. They find comfort in her words and the way she speaks.

Aphyx moves to motion to something on the holoprojection. She seems to falter in her movements, her eyes quickly flitting across the back of the room. She clears her throat and powers down the holoprojector. 

“Tomorrow,” she repeats. “We will plan our proposal to the High Council, you are dismissed.”

Observation: She seems tired.

Observation, snarky: Why would she be? The Republic is hardly suffering.

Further Observation, hasty but truthful: The war is affecting the Jedi. Jedi and Padawans are dying needlessly.

Conclusion: It’s the Sith’s fault.

Mental readjustment: It’s his fault. 

The group grumbles quietly as they filter out of the room and through the cramped doorway, their stiff robes rustling as they brush past each other. Eben hides himself in the shadows cast by the city towers outside, now silhouetted by the moon rising behind them.

The room is empty now, lit only by a small wall light by the podium and the moonlight coming through the window.

Aphyx is bent over some papers on a small table facing away from him. She sighs, softly.

“I can sense you from where you stand in the shadows, Sith,” She sounds resigned, despite the light tone she’s desperately trying to keep in her voice. 

Observation: She’s scared.

Adjustment, pulled from Aphyx: She hasn’t slept in days. 

Thought, intrusive: She wouldn’t be able to fight back if he just reached down, removed his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it - shoving it in between her exposed shoulder blades as he cut her in- 

He cuts off his connection with a grunt, clenching his hands into fists.

She spins around to look at him, fearless yet unnervingly calm, in a way he had never seen in the Sith he had trained alongside on Korriban, their glowing yellow eyes flashing in anger at the slightest accusation, the slightest ribbing. Eben feels the heated ghost of a lightsaber brushing across his underbelly, right where a decade old thick scar permeates across his skin.

Aphyx’s eyes flick to his stomach, as though she can tell that’s where his focus is. Not like she’s mapping his weak points, her hand hovering over where her lightsaber hangs at her side.

She looks up at him from under his hood. 

Her face falls, mouth dropping slightly.

Eben can feel her reach out to him, almost like a caress the way it gently strokes over the forefront of his mind, different from how his Master had, long, long ago.

“You…” She says, almost breathlessly. She takes tentative steps towards him, brows furrowed, hands now raised in a calming gesture, like he’s an abused animal. Maybe he is.

He steps back, shifting his stance slightly to make himself seem smaller, and projects a less adversarial energy.  _ It’s okay.  _

Answer, received instantly: She’s going to approach him, now.

Observation, obvious: She is.  

Aphyx moves closer to him. They stand in the middle of the room now, in front of that disgustingly large window, showing off that disgustingly large city. 

She can sense that he hates that window, a small wave of amusement rolling off of her. The way that it would when he would do something particular as a toddler, something that he can’t remember now, but can barely see in her blocked off mind, the glow of a holo in a small apartment, his small chubby hands passing through it - 

She stands in front of him now, and reaches up, removing his hood.

Observation, pitiful and afraid: She shares his face, which is looking directly up at his now.

Observation, incredulously: She’s comparing their features.

Aphyx shares his coloring, her skin more golden, less deathly pale. Less thinned with the gauntness received from childhood malnutrition. Her blonde hair is streaked with grey, reaching from her temples to where it rests in a knot at the back of her head. 

She has fine wrinkles in the corners of her eyes - his eyes, golden and honey like ( _ weak _ , his father would have said.  _ Too trusting) -  _ and at her mouth, that now sits firmly in disbelief as she looks at him, cataloging his face, which she has not seen in nearly two decades.

Observation, projected:  _ You have your fathers nose. _

Observation, less direct:  _ His freckles too. _

Tears are freely falling down her face. Unafraid of him now, she reaches out and grabs his metal arm from where it rests under his robe and rubs her hands up it, feeling the soft mesh hand and the paneling that runs up the forearm.

“What happened?” Her voice is strong again, her eyes narrowing. She’s not asking, she’s demanding. He can feel it in her energy field pointed and angry at an unknown enemy that would dare hurt him like this.

“I…” Eben clears his throat, this was the first time he would be speaking to anyone in days, he realizes, “It was another officer, on the  _ Alliance _ . Father’s old ship,” He clenches and unclenches his robotic hand, wrist still grasped by her hands. 

“It was nearly ten years ago. It hardly hurts anymore.” His Imperial accent echos in a room of the Republican Senate almost tauntingly, a knot forms in his throat. 

Aphyx scoffs at him, “Still pretending to be strong, even now,” She sniffs, wipes away a tear that was falling down her cheek, and suddenly lets out a broken laugh, shaking her whole body.

“When you were younger, you once fell down an entire flight of stairs at the Temple. I didn’t even realize you were hurt until I noticed the bruise on your cheek,” She reaches up towards his face, as if to touch that very bruise.

“I felt guilty for days because of it. Thought I was the worst mother in the world. I risked everything to have you, and I couldn’t even keep you from injury.” His arm barely registers her grip tightening on his arm.

Hypothesis: She feels guilty at how he turned out. She can sense the darkness inside of him.

Analysis: Why shouldn’t she? She put him in the hands of his father, who stole him.

Observation: That’s what he would have said.

Mental readjustment: His father is a liar. His mother loved him, still loves him.

He finds it hard to speak. Funny, despite his multiple reprimands of insubordination, and how often he was switched for his smart mouth. 

Eben speaks slowly, “This… wasn’t your fault. I, I’m okay, now,” He moves closer to her, laying his other hand gently on her arm, trying to comfort her despite his awkwardness and inexperience.

“Everything that happened to our family, it was Father’s fault.”  _ Not yours _ , he directs towards her, offering a small smile. 

She keeps staring at his face, wide and so filled with hope, and he’s suddenly taken aback by how  _ adoring  _ her energy field is. A warm, melty feeling spreading from his head down to his toes, warm and not unlike the first sip of a cup of tea, settling in his chest and spreading outward.

He feels tears well up in his eyes, affected by this sudden onslaught of love, and chokes out, “Mother-”

Aphyx reaches out and pulls him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist as she starts sobbing fully, this time into the thick fabric of his cloak.

His hands hover in the air behind her as she continues to cry. He softly, tentatively, wraps his own arms around her, mindful of the metal bits and her hair. He lowers his head down onto her shoulder. She’s reached out and carefully wrapped her entire being around him, her force energy, carefully around his own, settling into the back of his head. He lets out a small, broken laugh around his tears.

“I’m home.”  
  



End file.
